Bound and Broken
by Drop Your Oboe
Summary: The binding [and.or breaking] of Yrael and Orannis by the Seven. Please R&R...it's not the same as in Abhorsen!
1. Chapter 1

It stared defiantly, out at the windswept, desolate, once-lush wasteland-his masterpiece- and at the seven figures surrounding him. Seven. The Seven. For a moment, it felt regret, but a snarling beast inside him faced it down. No. _No._ It stood only for itself now. It laughed out loud.

"And you think you shall defeat me? Fools, the lot of you! We should have stayed together! As the Nine, we could have been powerful! But you…" It laughed again. "Sad, scrawny remains of a once-great band. I shall crush you, each and every one, pitiful things that you are. And Yrael!" Its voice swelled to huge proportions, booming across the red-and-gray-clouded sky. None of the Seven budged. "Where is our brother now? Hiding! Hah! The coward! He shall go too!" Power coursed through it. With a great shout, it sent fire sweeping over the Seven.

The fire disappeared into a gold mist.

Puzzled, it tried again, with the same results. Panic began to set in. They were invincible.

"It is you who went wrong," said Mosrael. "Had you but stayed with us, you could have been truly great. Now, alone…you are nothing."

"I am sorry," said a voice behind him. It turned. "Had you not chosen as you did, we could help you. But you've gone too far." She stepped forwards. "I am Astarael, and I stand against you." A glowing symbol flared slowly in front of her.

"I am Saraneth, and I stand against you." He moved forwards. His mark burst into being defiantly.

"I am Belgaer, and I stand against you." His mark was slower, but just as bright.

It blinked. It could not believe what it was seeing. It, the Ninth Bright Shiner, soon to be bound and broken. The next voice filtered through its brain, a light, musical voice. "I am Dyrim, and I stand against you." He did not see her symbol. He did not need to.

"I am Kibeth," the next said. "As I will, so do I now. I stand against you." No one questioned her odd statement.

Mosrael…

Ranna…

"Brothers, sisters," came the broken whisper. "Why do you do this to me?"

Ranna began to sing, a high, sweet, impossibly sustained note. She was followed by Mosrael, then Kibeth, and so on. The voices wove together in the air, forming a bright silver mist which lengthened and spread over Orannis. They sang on and on until he was completely covered. Astarael stepped forwards once again and arced her hand down in a cutting motion. The mist, now a silver sphere, split. Astarael looked at the rest. "Shall we, my friends?" Her voice carried a weariness that they had not heard before. They nodded as one and moved towards the pit, pushing the hemispheres until they fell in. The Seven stood around it, in a circle. Astarael stepped forth one last time.

"I am Astarael, and under bone I bind you." Crooking one hand as if to cast a spell, she drew lines in the air, crossing them until it became a net. She blew a mark off her hand onto the net, which began to glow.

"I am Saraneth, and under oak I bind you." His net was already formed; he simply drew the mark on it.

"I am Belgaer, and under ash I bind you."

"I am Dyrim, and under rowan I bind you…"

Kibeth sighed before drawing her symbol lightly on the air. "I am Kibeth, and under lead I bind you.

"I am Mosrael, and under gold I bind you."

"I am Ranna, and under silver I bind you."

The pit now shimmered under a multitude of spell-nets. The Seven spoke together.

"As the Charter stands, so do we now. We are the Seven, and we stand against you for all time to come."

They moved away. All, that is, except Dyrim. She stood staring sadly at the small mound that covered the silver hemispheres. "Orannis, my comrade, my friend," she whispered. "What made you choose? What made you turn away from the Charter?"

And deep under the earth, it replied, _Power._

She wept quietly for it. Never to know the feeling of harmony and peace that the Charter brought. Never again to see the light.

After a moment, she squared her shoulders and walked away. She sang.

"_I'll sing you a song of the long ago-_

_Seven shine the shiners, oh!_

_What did the Seven do way back when?_

_Why, they wove the Charter then!_

_Five for the warp, beginning to end._

_Two for the woof, to make and mend._

_That's the Seven, but what of the Nine-_

_What of the two who chose not to shine?_

_The Eighth did hide, hide all away,_

_But the Seven caught him and made him pay-"_

She stopped. What on earth was she singing? It wasn't coming from her, that was certain. She shrugged.

"_But the Seven caught him and made him pay._

_The Ninth was strong and fought with might,_

_But lone Orannis was put out of the light,_

_Broken in two and buried under hill,_

_Forever to lie there, wishing us ill."_

Grinning, she ran to catch up with the rest and began her song again. Kibeth joined in, and soon they were all singing, stepping jauntily down the narrow dirt road, Orannis and Yrael and their cares forgotten. For now.

_AN: Hello to anyone reading this for the first time, and hello again to those who've seen it before. As you might have noticed, I changed this chapter a little, by request of __**whoever it was that reviewed. **__I'd forgotten that Orannis was referred to as "it," and now that I think about it, and Charter knows I've taken long enough, it makes more sense. So thank you, __**reviewer**__, and thank you to everyone else:_

REVIEWS:


	2. Chapter 2

Safe. He was safe. They'd never find him here; he could disappear until they were far, far away-

"You cannot hide from us forever, brother Yrael."

He jumped and spun, beginning to call out a spell of concealing mist.

"Quiet." The word was infused with power. His throat seized. His tongue felt impossibly thick. He couldn't speak.

"And come here, would you?"

His legs walked towards the voice of their own accord. He came into the presence of the Seven.

"Thank you, Dyrim, and you also, Kibeth. Now, brother, what are we to do with you?" Belgaer walked around him. "Naughty naughty, hiding like that."

"The Eighth did hide, hide all away-" whispered Dyrim.

"You must choose. The question is, do you choose the Charter, or will you take the path of Orannis?" Belgaer was asking him.

"I -"

"No lies now, brother," said Saraneth easily.

He swallowed. "I will choose-" No sound came out. He tried again. He could not speak. Belgaer glanced sharply at the others. "Dyrim? Did you-?"

She shook her head. "No. I think, rather, it is his choice that is hindering him."

They looked at him. He smiled. "You're right," he told her. "I find I am unable to choose either good or evil."

"Then we will choose for you," Ranna replied. "You will be a servant of the…the…"

"The Abhorsen," said Dyrim as if she were far away. "One in the people who wear the crown…two in the folk that keep the Dead down…yes, the Abhorsen," she continued, her voice becoming stronger as she spoke. "You will do their bidding, and only their bidding. The Seven caught him and made him pay," she added in a whisper.

Yrael was shaking. He seemed to draw himself up, then dwindled into a small, white shape-a cat, with green eyes. He began to back out of the half-circle.

"Not so fast." Saraneth stepped forwards, pulling a ring off his finger. He began to toy with it, moving it from hand to hand. "I see you will need a binding, of sorts…come here." He passed the hand with the ring over Yrael's head, leaving a red collar of binding-spells and a small silver bell. He glanced at the others, sharing some silent jest. Laughter echoed around the small space.

"Be good now, Mogget," said Mosrael. Then they were gone.

Yrael was furious. Mogget! How dare they! What an imbecilic name! _Change,_ he willed himself. _Change._ And to his surprise, he felt himself altering. _Free!_ But as he moved, the bell rang gently, and he realized that he still wore the cursed spell-collar as a belt-and it wasn't him, no, he was some sort of dwarf albino with green eyes-

"No!" he shouted, surprised to find he could still talk. At least they'd allowed him that. He turned his mind to his new position. What was that Dyrim had said? The folk that keep the Dead down?

What on earth were the Dead?

Soon, he reasoned, he would find out.

***

_I admit, I do have a weakness for putting mad-seeress types into my stories._

_  
So I wrote this story forever ago, and then someone reviewed, and I re-read my A/N and realized I'd written a second part. I don't write Garth Nix fanfiction anymore- this chapter's three years old, more or less, same as the first- but it can't hurt to post it, right? Thanks to crazybeagle for reminding me that this existed. Reviews would absolutely rock. Cheers!  
_


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